


vapor

by Halbeary



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Panic Attacks, brainwashed gabe, brief suicide mention, double agent gabe, let my boy have his revenge and let him REST, vague r76
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 23:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14604090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halbeary/pseuds/Halbeary
Summary: collection of gabe-centric one-shots





	1. home

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written for a while and am trying to get back into the swing of things, so.. sorry for any typos or repetition or w/e.

The sky is overcast, when it finally happens.

He thought it would be clear– the sun would come out, clouds would part, birds start singin’, etc., etc.. Had envisioned that the weight would lift off of his chest and he could finally take a unhindered breath for the first time in seven years, imagined some kinda cosmic entity would descend from the sky and tell him _rest now, Gabriel_. _You’ve done enough_.

But there’s only a light drizzling of rain and a pile of bird shit precariously close to his coat, the fumes of distant smouldering buildings melting into the skyline. He snorts. _Typical_. His right heel clunks against the perforated concrete as he swings his leg out and in, out and in.

The world never gave a shit about him or his fucking problems, and it’s not about to start now.

A purple clad thigh settles down a respectful distance away from him.

“Well, that was almost disappointing,” she sighs, haphazardly waving her hand in the air in emphasis, “how easy they fell.”

Gabe huffs, leaning back on his forearms, eyes still trained on the billowing plumes of smoke in the distance. “It’s a lot easier to behead someone once you’ve removed all their limbs.”

“Eugh, asqueroso,” she pinches her nose. “I’m glad I can count on you to provide the vivid imagery as usual, amigo.”

His nose itches. It’s something he’s long ignored, the constant mending of his skin, the way it destroys and rebuilds itself over and over in a disgusting mockery of biology. The constant pain has become something of a reassurance– it means he can still feel _something_. He leans back on aching wrists, angling for a distraction.

“Did you dump the info online?”

“Por favor, who do you take me for? I did it _ages_ ago. It’s trending on every news site worldwide.” She pulls up a holoscreen, shoving it in front of his nose. “This one is even calling for a post-humerus pardon for one Commander Gabriel Reyes.”

“Hmm. A bit late.”

“The common folk are always such, amigo. Can never see what’s right in front of their noses.” She reaches over to boop his nose. Gabe swats at her hand without any real vigor.

“So,” she starts, hesitating just long enough for Gabe to know whatever she’s about to say he’s not gonna like. “What are you gonna do now?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Die, I guess.”

“Dios mío, you’re always so fucking dramatic.”

Gabe ignores her. He always thought this fight would end with his (second) death, splattered against the floor of some forgotten warehouse, alone and forgotten. Now that it‘s over, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s going to do.

 _That’s a lie_ , an annoying voice whispers into his ear. _You know what you want to do._ He tells that voice to shut the fuck up and flops back against the rooftop, hand rubbing at his temple.

“Here I thought you would settle into a nice retirement–” Gabriel catches the incredulous laugh that bubbles out of his throat before it leaves his lips “– get a nice quiet house in L.A., adopt a dog. Maybe take up cross-stitching.”

“ _Hilarious_.”

“I wasn’t making a joke.” She stands up, stretching her hands above her head. He trains an eye on her as she perches on the edge of the roof, arms outstretched to keep her balance. _Adrenaline junky_ , he grouses to himself. _Gonna get her killed_.

“You’re right, Gabe,” she says, quietly. Serious, for the first time in a while. It makes him lift his head to give her his full attention. “You’re done. This long war you’ve been raising, it’s over. You deserve a little R&R.” She turns to him, smirk on her face. She taps her lips with a finger as if in deep thought. “Maybe a vacation? Somewhere sunny with a nice view.” She points her finger in the air, eyes going wide with a wicked sort of delight. “I know this _great_ place in Gibraltar–”

Just like that, his amicable mood sours. He throws his arm over his mask with a groan. “Shut the fuck up, Sombra.”

“No, I’m serious. Hear me out– you’ve exposed them!” She pauses, spinning around on the edge and walking back the way she came. “ _Well_.. I did, because I’m awesome and the security on that omnic’s hardware was hilarious bad, but that’s besides the point.” She turns and spreads her arms wide, gesturing to the horizon. “They _know_ now. _Everyone_ knows what really happened, what caused the fall of you’re little club.” She takes a few steps closer to him and kneels down so that they’re on a more even level, her voice growing quiet again. “You don’t have to hide anymore.”

Gabe stares at her. _Doesn’t have to hide. What a joke_. His nose itches again. He wiggles it in annoyance. Tired red eyes glance back up at the overcast sky. A drop of water lands on the eye hole of his mask, rolls down until it hits his decaying skin and evaporates. A wisp of smoke rolls off the point of impact, fading into the skyline. The exhaustion hits him all at once.

“I’m tired, Somb.”

“I know,” she coos, patting the top of his hood with fondness. “And now you can rest. Reconcile. Relax.”

Gabe glares at her. “You think it’s gonna be that easy? Forgiveness doesn’t just happen overnight.”

“But they must have read the news, must have realised by now what you’ve been doing–”

“Who said I was talking about _their_ forgiveness?”

“Gabriel,” she says softly, tentatively.

He sits back up, wraps his arms around one of his knees to rest his chin on it. The fires are starting to die down, now just a whiff of smoke lazily drifting towards the sky. He can hear sirens in the distance, muffled by the thick fabric of his hood.

“.. you know what Talon did to me. You read the files.”

“I recall skimming the procedures done to one Subject 002 while I was carefully reducing their supplies of relevant pharmaceuticals over time, yes.” She pauses. “But you remember, don’t you? Once the sessions stopped, once the drugs were so watered down they had no effect on you anymore.”

“Bits and pieces,” he admits reluctantly. “They’ll come back to me in dreams, sometimes. Never know if they’re fucking real.” He kicks at the wall again. “The anger stays, though. The betrayal. All those years of having them feed that shit directly into my brain. Those aren’t so easy to get rid of.”

“You read the reports yourself, Gabe. What they did to you, what they made you think. What they did to make Jac–”

He glares at her sharply. “ _Don’t,_ ” he rasps, low and dangerous.

Sombra puts her hands up defensively. “I’m just sayin’. The data doesn’t lie.”

He sighs, the exhausting eating away at his bones like it always does, making him hunch over like the old fucker he is. “I know. But this–” he taps the side of his skull. “This does.” A whiff of smoke rolls off of the impact, sifting into the air like a disease. “Who knows what fucking side effects I have from the shit they did. Some kind of programming to hurt someone after some predetermined conditions are met.” He tries not to think about the way they found Gerard, lying in a pool of his own blood with a single bullet hole lodged neatly between his forehead, a peaceful smile on his face. Of course, of all the fucking memories he got back, _that_ is the one he can remember with perfect clarity. “Maybe by killing them all I just triggered something,” he says darkly, cautiously, “and one day you’ll wake up to see me hovering over your bed with a shotgun in your face.”

Sombra tsks, disgusted. “Like you could get past my security.”

Gabe rolls his eyes. “Whatever. You know what I mean.” He kicks his feet again. “It’s better if I just– fade away. For everyone.”

“ _Hmm_ ,” Sombra sits down next to him, neatly folding her feet under her legs. “For _you_ , maybe. Not for the people who still care about you.”

Gabe huffs. “No one cares about me.” Sombra taps her chin.

“That’s weird, then what’s the recorded 248 hours of log files I found on a certain swiss doctor’s computer of her running simulations on how to reverse your condition? The last one was made, oh,” she checks her arm display, “two days ago, by the way.” She opens a holodisplay of a white lily and waves it in front of his face. “Or the flowers that get sent to your sister’s fabric store every year on your birthday? There’s no name, but I traced the account to a bank in Cairo.” Gabe tenses up, fingers curling into the concrete. It crumbles beneath his grip. “Or should I tell you about a certain old man with a receding hairline who visits your grave every third sunday of the month–”

“ _Enough._ “

“Oh, and then there’s a certain renown hacker who has been assisting you with your fucking mission for the past few _years_ , you pendejo. I know we don’t talk about feelings much, but you have to know that _I_ care about you.”

Gabe tries to uncurl from where he’s been cradling the panging in his chest. “You care because I’m _useful_ ,” he spits between clenched teeth.

Sombra laughs. “Just because you’re useful doesn’t mean I don’t care. What’s the point of friends if you don’t help each other out?” She leans over to bump her shoulder against his arm. The impact makes him wince. “Nice attempt to change the subject, by the way.” She leans in closer, wrapping her fingers around the cuff of his jacket. “What are you so afraid of, Gabriel? That they won’t accept you, or that they _will?_ ”

His hand is shaking as he reaches for his mask, unclipping it and unsteadily pressing his knuckles to his forehead. “ _Fuck.”_ He hates how fucking perceptive she is. He used to have so many secrets before he met her. Smoke drifts away from a hole on his face, a haze of nanites that remind him just how fucking hopeless his situation is.

“They’ll never accept me looking like _this.”_ He feels a third eye erupt from his forehead, world tilting with an infrared hue that he’ll never get used to. He trains it on Sombra (as if to say _see?_ ) who doesn’t even flinch, just shrugs.

“Pff, come on. I’ve seen pics from when you were younger, _Soldier 24_.” He instinctively bristles at the name. “You were super hot. I’m sure the good doctor will be able to fix you up.” She pats his thigh amicably and reaches for a pouch on her belt to pull something out, hiding it behind her back. “Okay, hold out your hand.”

Gabe narrows his eyes. “ _Why_.”

Sombra pouts. “Because that’s what you do when you’re accepting a gift.”

“I don’t want any of your _gifts_.”

“Always so difficult. Here–”

Sombra reaches out for his hand and places a light metal object in it. Gabe turns it over in his hand.

“.. and this is?”

“A phone. Come on, I know you’re not _that_ old–”

“ _Sombra,_ ” he interrupts with gritted teeth.

“It’s secure. My own work, of course. All you have to do is hit número uno on the speed dial.” She pats his hand one more time and springs to her feet. “For when you’re ready.”

If his heart still beat he’s sure it’d be bleeding out of his chest by now. He tries to clear his throat, but when he speaks it’s a barely audible rasp. “Ready for..?”

Sombra smiles at him before spinning on her heel to the fire escape, one hand waving casually over her shoulder.

“To see your family again.”

Gabe watches her walk away. He glances back down at the phone in his right hand. His mask is still in the other.

He stares at the both for a long time, until the sun sets behind the distant hills and the moon peaks out behind a sudden gap in the clouds. The moonlight gives his mask an almost ethereal glow. It’s well-crafted; hand-sculpted carbon fiber, built in holographic display with all the latest tech. He vaguely remembers the day he got it, handed to him by some dead guy with a smug look on his face. _A new face for the new you_. _We can’t have you scaring the populace, now can we, my dear Reaper._

 _Fuck_ , he hated that guy. The shotgun blast to the roof of his mouth was the least he deserved. He curls his fingers around the edge of the mask.

It’s transformed from something they forced on him to something he’s chosen to hide behind, something that keeps him safe from prying eyes. He doesn’t remember the last time he took it off, before now.

 _You don’t have to hide anymore_. Gabe pauses. Considers.

“Fuck that,” he announces with finality.

He takes one last look at the mask before curling his arm back as far as it can go and launching it into the distance.

He lets his coat and gloves dissolve and tugs the hood from his hoodie up over his head. He palms the phone, chest clenched with indecision before powering it on and hitting the 1 button before he can stop himself.

The dial tone rings once. Twice. Someone picks up.

“.. _Gabriel.”  
_

Not a question, not a statement. Just his name, spoken from lips he hasn’t heard it from in years. His knees almost give out and he sags heavily against the wall, hand clenched over his mouth to muffle the sob that works its way up his throat.

“ _Are you ready to come home?”_ No nonsense, straight to the point. Just like she’s always been. Gabe lets out a shaky laugh and stands, wiping his palms on his pants.

“Yeah,” he makes for the fire escape, making sure his hood is tugged snugly on top of his head before opening the door. “I’m ready.”


	2. sulphur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there's bad days, and there's worse days.

He can’t feel his arms.

 _That’s to be expected_ , her voice chimes in, long nails tapping against the data pad with a faint _click click click_.

_You can’t feel what you don’t have._

The particles dissolve in front of his eyes, swirling in slow, twisting patterns that make him feel lightheaded. A red light on the wall catches his eye and he frowns. _How did I get here?_

He glances down at the swirling mass of nanites pooling around him. It looks simulated, almost– unnatural in a way that makes what’s left of his hair rise on the back of his neck.

Something’s wrong.

His eyebrows furrow, teeth grinding together. What’s _wrong?_

_Everything is going according to plan, Reaper._

Reaper. That’s him, isn’t it? _The_ Reaper, Talon’s most efficient operative. Kill count above three hundred, mission success rate of 97%. Serial number–

A spike of pain lances through his skull and he tries to cry out, but his throat isn’t working. He looks down. His throat is gone, only a black void remains. Panic envelops him until he can barely breathe, and then he’s not breathing, can’t breathe because his skull is disintegrating into a nauseating spiral of particles, what is _happening to him_ –

“Gabriel.”

His eyes snap open. Too many of them, too many eyes– the color of the room pulses from gray scale to red, back to musty brown, red, infrared, overlaps on top of each other– he snaps his eyes closed again, desperately trying to drown out the sound of his own body rotting around him.

There’s a burst of warmth on his cheek and he sucks in a ragged breath, a shaky whine piercing through the room as he latches onto it, nanites clinging to the source like he’s drowning. The warmth makes the buzzing stop, makes the pain in his skull die down to something bearable, so he cautiously pries one eye open. The room just looks like– a room. He lets out a sigh of relief. He lets his eyes drag down the source of the warmth. A human arm, connected to–

“Sombra,” he grits out, head drooping so that his chin hits his chest ( _his whole chest, his normal, human chest_ , but his _arms–_ )

“Hola.” She pats his cheek again. “You with me, amigo?”

He shakes his head against the rising, sickening pulse of the headache coming back. “I– I don’t–”

“Gabe, come on. Look at me.”

 _No, he doesn’t want to._ Too many things to see, too many eyes, too many things that are _wrong_ –

“Ugh, dios mío. Looks like we’re doing this the hard way.”

Someone slaps his cheek. He flinches backwards, head banging against the wall.

“Soldier, present yourself,” someone says, tone laced with authority. His back straightens automatically.

“C–” the word gets caught in his throat. _That’s not right_ , that’s not _right._ He shakes his head. “I don’t–”

“Serial number. Now.”

He pauses, frantically trying to remember. It’s like someone has placed his brain in a fucking bubble, insulated on all sides, cut off from what’s real–

Another slap. He shakes his head, nanites by where his arms should be pulsing and throbbing with every breath.

“Name, rank and serial number.” The warmth is back on his face, cutting through the fog and making his eyes water. _Why is this so fucking hard?_

“C-” he clears his throat. “Commander–” _is that right? Is he a Commander? It sounds right, it_ feels _right_. He coughs, ignoring the black phlegm that bubbles out of his mouth. “Commander Gabriel Reyes,” he manages, the words like muscle memory, and the words feel _right_ , they’re the only goddamn thing that’s felt right since he woke up here. “Commander Gabriel Reyes,” he says again, firmed this time. “Serial number–” come on, come _on_ “– serial number zero six zero zero two–”

Another slap, but lighter. “Wrong. Try again, soldier,” the voice says, kinder this time.

Gabriel sucks in a slow breath, ears ringing with quiet _click click clicks_. He grits his teeth, trying to sift through the shattered fragments of his thoughts, what is the goddamn _number_ –

A flash of a smile, and the color blue, bright blue like the sky on a clear day, and then–

_Seventy-six, huh? Aw, you’re just a baby._

_Shut the fuck up, Reyes. Let me guess, you’re number_ one _._

_Ha, no. He’s fucking dead, dude. You’re looking at soldier number–_

“Serial number zero six zero zero zero zero zero zero two four,” he manages, head lolling back against the wall in exhaustion. “ _Fuck_.”

“Welcome back, amigo.” Her hand pats his cheek fondly. “You wanna pull yourself together? Looking a little like melted ice cream there.”

“God,” he groans. “Fuck off.” His head feels like it’s about to split open. He bangs it against the wall, once, and then again, harder. The pain helps him focus. He reaches out to the nanites in his arms and slowly, achingly slow, begins to knit them back together, one by one until he has something resembling an arm. Then he does the other side. And then his legs, all the way to his feet. He’s panting with exertion by the time it’s done. Sombra hands him a cup of coffee.

“Thanks,” he croaks, downing the drink like a dying person. The description isn’t that far off.

“Anytime,” she says, mouth quirked in a soft smile like she actually means it. That smile quickly turns into a smirk. “You know how much I love slapping you around.”

“Fuck off,” he says again, quieter and without any real intent. He doesn't know where the fuck he’d be without her. He hates being so utterly dependent on someone. “Goddamn brat,” he huffs, shoving the empty cup towards her without any finesse.

She puts her hand over her chest. “I’m hurt. And here I was going to give you a new firmware upgrade that has some very, ah, _interesting_ information attached to it.”

He raises an eyebrow, glancing down at the empty cup of coffee, back up to her face. Sombra rolls her eyes. “Fine, fine. You and your fucking caffeine addiction.”

She’s back from the coffee maker in less than a minute, but it feels like a lifetime. He snatches the cup out of her hands before she can give it to him, some of the liquid sloshing over the edge and onto his faded black hoodie in his desperation. He downs the last of it before letting the mug clatter to his side, thumbs rubbing at his eyeballs ineffectually. His arms drop, and he finally meets Sombra’s gaze.

“Thank you,” he says, almost a whisper. _God,_ he’s so fucking _tired_.

Sombra smiles at him again, tongue poking out from between her teeth.

“You can thank me by telling me about the coffee,” she pauses, spinning her finger in the air, “about why you drink it like it’s the last thing you’re ever gonna do.”

Gabe snorts, fingers fiddling with the handle of the mug. He knows what she’s doing, trying to get him to _remember_ , trying to keep him grounded in who he really is. He plays along, mostly because he’s fucking terrified of slipping back into what they made him into.

“Any soldier would do the same. You shoulda seen the amount of coffee we all drank during the war,” the Omnic War, the group he led, Reinhardt, Torbjörn, Liao, Ana, _Jack_ –

He shakes his head, blinking a little too fast. “We used to crush up caffeine pills and spike the instant coffee just to keep going. Felt like it was the only thing keeping us alive, back then.”

 _A lifetime ago_. Back then, he wouldn’t be so willing to share, would keep his secrets close to his chest, protect them with his life. The only ones who ever really knew him were Ana, because she could call him on his bullshit with a single look, and _Jack–_

Gabe lets his eyes slip closed. _Better not go there._ He doesn’t have any secrets anymore, anyways. Sombra already had a two petabyte folder on him before he even met her. He rolls his eyes. _Fucking snoop._

Sombra grins at him like she can read his thoughts, and then pushes herself to her feet in one graceful movement.

“Well, that’s suitably horrifying. Fits you’re whole aesthetic, I guess, so props to you for being consistent.”

He flips her off. Sombra just cackles, cracking her knuckles above her head. She moves towards the door, looking back over her shoulder with a indecipherable look. She hesitates a moment.

“You remember your mission, Soldier 24?”

He knows what she’s asking. _You good?_ Gabe looks down at the floor between his legs, frowns for a moment, and then pushes himself to his feet with a shaky hand. He lets out a breath and feels the shotgun coalesce in his hand. He hefts it over his shoulder and raises an eyebrow.

“Who’s next?”

Sombra smirks. “I already flashed it to your HUD. Jet’s waiting.”

Gabriel lets his coat materialize around him, grabbing his mask from the floor and slipping it onto his face.

They have work to do.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: boostle.tumblr.com
> 
> hmu with gabe HC, i love this man i would die for him


End file.
